


Paganism

by Rhohel_of_the_Shire



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Arthur Whump, Arthur can't feel remorse for anything because the pagan being won't let him, Eldritch, Eldritch Horrors, Gen, Paganism, Possessions, Whump, the pagan mask that Arthur can wear, well whump may not be the best tag for this but I feel it can apply if you tilt your head and squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhohel_of_the_Shire/pseuds/Rhohel_of_the_Shire
Summary: Arthur Morgan finds a mask west of Owanjila Lake while looking for a legendary fish and procrastinating getting Micah from the Strawberry Jail. He is no longer only Arthur Morgan, and now he is damn hungry.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	1. Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! So I found the fucking pagan site and wondered what if the site had an affect on Arthur. So here's my take on it!
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Red Dead Redemption belongs to Rockstar.

When Arthur traveled to the Owanjila Lake, it because he was chasing some damn rumor about some legendary fish. Yeah, he knew that he was supposed to be getting Micah out of jail, but the bastard could wait until he caught the damn fish and mailed it off to the fisherman that wanted it. So he had pitched a campsite near the western reaches of the lake and hitched his horse, a sweet American Paint mare name Magnolia, before he decided to go hunt a couple of rabbits for dinner. With a roaring fire and his tent pitched, Arthur had given Magnolia one last pet before he had went off following some animal trails with his Varmit Rifle and a Bolt Action.

He was optimistic that along with some rabbits he could get some good buck pelts and maybe even some beaver pelts for Pearson to use so he can craft a new satchel. The day was still young and the trails that he was following hadn't been that old to begin with, so Arthur followed them diligently. He had stopped to check some animal droppings when he heard something whisper in the wind near him. Promises of power and wealth seemed so alluring, and the whispers increased in volume as he followed the tracks to the edge of a clearing.

The tracks he had been so intent on following seemed to disappear right in front of him, and he walked straight into a clearing. The clearing itself wasn't what called to him, instead it was what was in it that had whispered sweet nothings in his ears. Arthur should have been disturbed with what he saw, but instead he found himself drawn to a large ritual site with a decapitated and gutted corpse skewered on a large wooden spike. Behind the corpse was a small altar with an imposing mask on it, and Arthur's vision began to darken at the edges as the whispers grew louder as he took in the site of what he was going to assume was a ritual.

A large grin spread across Arthur's face while something in his mind screamed at him to leave the place, but instead he found himself walking through the white lines and brushing past the poor soul to the mask instead. He reached out to grab at the mask, and the whispers grew louder and louder saying _yes yes yesyesyesYESYES Y E S_.

It was a perfect fit Arthur had found, and the second the cool surface of the bone of the mask touched his face Arthur felt truly content with his life.

Some primal part of Arthur was yelling in the dark recesses of his mind, only to be snuffed out by the calming whispers that he had heard before he set foot in the clearing, _HIS CLEARING._ He was crouched for some reason, and when Arthur stood up he could hear his bones creak with an age old power that he had never felt before in his life. Despite the sun bearing down over him, the shadows rushed out to greet him happily and cloaked him in a soothing embrace. One that he hadn't felt since his mother died.

_But that wasn't right, they had no mother. They had woke in the dark and lived in the dark and was comforted by the dark. And for ages they had let these mortals squirm and prostrate themselves to appease them, and they had let the mortals sacrifice themselves for their own amusement._

Arthur walked along the edges of the clearing within the shadows so he could head back to his campsite, even though it was still bright out Arthur wished for the cool shade of his tent. He wasn't quite sure where his campsite had been but he could suddenly see a blood red path leading him and the whispers in his head cooing at him telling him that he could trust them, and Arthur felt they were right because the path lead him right to his campsite.

He could trust them since they didn't lead him astray.

_Of course they would never lead him astray, he had the blood of the mortals from good Wales in coursing through his veins and they were perhaps the most worthy to hear them. They could see into his past and saw tragedy and pain and delighted in the pleasure of knowing how loyal of a child he had been and always will be._

Yes, he was loyal, but that's why he had to go get Micah from Strawberry, only because Dutch had asked him to.

_They saw who Micah was to him and they saw what Micah could do to him and they decided that yes, Arthur should go rescue him because revenge was sweet. And also because that wretched man's soul would taste sooo delicious, and they were sooo hungry. If Arthur fed them then they would ensure that Arthur never need for anything again._

His dear Magnolia was still hitched up when he came back, but his sweet mare had taken one look at Arthur and reared up in fear. He cocked his head and felt the weight of the mask and the coolness of it had sink into his skin. "Shhhh, easy girl, it's just me," he said to calm her down, but he could hear not only his voice but a million others reverberate through his throat.

She reared up again and whinnied loudly as he got closer to her, her shiny white man flinging left and right as Magnolia stomped her hooves. Arthur reached up and patted at her nose, as he did so the shadows extended from his form and wrapped around her causing her to frighten.

" _Shhh Magnolia, we are here, and we will not let you succumb to mortal life,_ " they, Arthur, said as her once white mane and tail darkened as if Arthur had dunked the hairs in ink. Magnolia's eyes widened with horror before she finally calmed, her once kind and dark eyes an eerie blood red. " _Good girl Magnolia,_ " Arthur smiled behind the mask before he reached into his pocket and fed her a small cube of sugar. The American Paint nuzzled the side of his head and the mask happily as she snuffed around looking for more treats.

" _Be good for me girl, we ride at dusk_ ," both they and Arthur said at the same time.

The cowboy turned on his heel and stomped out the small fire that he had going, the heat and the fact that he had to step into the light unnerved him. But the whispers sung to him as he crawled into his bedroll and promised to wake him at dusk, for they were hungry and their meal was trapped waiting for them in Strawberry's jail. He looked up blearily at the canvas of his tent and from the edges of the mask, the shadows reached out and wrapped him in a cool embrace.

His blue eyes closed behind the mask and he fell into a dead sleep.

He didn't remember waking up, but he had found himself with his camp packed up and sitting atop Magnolia, his Paint waiting for him to steer her along. Arthur didn't bother to understand how he had been there, nor did he find it in himself to really care but at the whispers in his head demanding food Arthur had set out. He and Magnolia blended into the shadows of the trees, both silent despite Arthur knowing he should be able to hear the clomping of her hooves. He should be able to hear his own heart beating, and not feeling his heart had scared him initially.

_Do not be afraid my dear Arthur, there is no point in keeping with such a mortal task such as breathing or eating. We are all you need to be alive._

Arthur supposed they were right, but he could only think about how the whispers calmed him and the gunslinger felt a wave of coolness spread down his spine. Arthur touched at the mask on his face and ran his fingers over the smooth surface. He felt more at calm and had more purpose than Dutch had ever imbued him with in his life.

_Do not dose off now child, we have arrived at the meal._

Arthur jumped in his saddle and saw that they were indeed in Strawberry right in front of the welcome center. He kept Magnolia unhitched as he swung himself off the side of the saddle and silently his boots hit the ground. He didn't make a single sound as the shadows retreated back to him and he got close to the basement of the jailhouse.

He smirked behind the mask as he saw Micah all pressed up against the bars looking truly frightened for once in his life.

"Boo," Arthur spooked and got a chuckle as Micah yelped and flung himself away from the bars in fear, "Calm down it's just me."

Micah hesitantly stepped forwards, "Morgan? Is that you! The hell you do that for?"

Arthur reached up to slide the mask off of his face a bit so Micah could see him, "Oh I dunno, maybe it's because I've heard nothin' but bluster comin' out your mouth for these last few months!"

_Do not play with our food child, let him out so we can draw him away and devour him._

At Arthur's dead stare Micah found himself gulping and began to spew out excuses for his actions, but both Arthur and the whispers in his agreed that those words were falsely spoken. "Shut it cowpoke, Dutch sent me here to come and get ya, but now I ain't so certain," he bluffed.

"C-C'mon now! We brothers, sons of Dutch and all that!" Micah said as Arthur pulled away from the shadows and into the moonlight to look at the bars on the window.

_How dare their meal insinuate that they were brothers, because only Arthur was worthy not the meal. But, if they were banded together under the banner of Dutch Van der Linde then maybe there was more tasty meals back with Arthur's gang. They had spent ages unable to properly eat and this morsel wasn't enough they needed a feast._

No, he owed the gang his life and without them then Arthur would never have lived to be able to come across his mask, he argued and the whispers relented.

_We guess that every god needs some worshipers, we will let you keep that merry little gang but this rat is ours regardless. Find us another feast._

"What are you doing just standing there! Get me outta here! I saw an old steam donkey-" Micah started out but Arthur merely stalked forwards and grabbed the two bars in the middle. With a power he didn't know he had he had _pulled_ and heard the deafening screech of metal bending to his will. When there was enough of a hold for Micah to crawl out through Arthur stepped back.

But Micah didn't come out.

Instead he and the other prisoner scrambled back to try and get away from Arthur.

Arthur didn't appreciate lending a helping hand only for Micah not to accept it.

" _We didn't come all this way here for nothing. Either come on your own free will or we will force you out,_ " both Arthur and the whispers _commanded_. With a sigh Arthur moved the mask to cover his face again and sent out the shadows towards the other prisoner.

It ain't enough, but here is a small snack he thought and the whispers happily agreed. The shadows opened their maw and a sickening crunch startled Micah into movement. The other outlaw was too afraid of Arthur to try anything as Arthur could feel the whispers in his mind cannibalize the mind and soul of the other prisoner. His stomach filled with viscera and tasted way better than any of the slop that Pearson could whip up.

"Now, go on and get Baylock, before I decided I'm hungry again," Arthur warned.

The blonde ran off without a thought and through the shadows Arthur could tell where Micah was and what he was doing. He felt in control of his life for the first time that he put on the pagan mask, and the whispers cooed at him happily.

_We are all that you need to feel this way my dear child, sleep and we will wake you when this is all over._

Arthur's blue eyes dulled and his head hung low as he finally fell asleep again, the whispers singing a lullaby in a language he didn't understand and he didn't allow himself to worry about anything.

When he woke up again in a campsite that was made with his supplies outside of Valentine with a newspaper article about a massacre in Strawberry with thirty dead he wasn't even confused at all. In fact he could see some snippets in his mind of shadows curling around Micah and how the blonde outlaw screamed in horror as viscera and some unknown description of how utterly _delicious_ Micah Bell's soul had been as it filled his stomach flashed through his mind.

Which was soon joined with the souls of twenty-nine other people.

To the news and local authorities some unknown outlaw had broken out Micah Bell and an O'Driscoll from the Strawberry jailhouse, only for Micah Bell to be shot and killed by law enforcement and for his unknown partner to massacre half a town on his way to escape.

The only description they could get of the other outlaw was a figure in normal ranch hand clothing with a large skull mask covering his face, while the body of Micah Bell was to be recovered from Strawberry by Pinkertons.

Arthur smiled and covered his face with the mask once more before deciding to head back to camp.


	2. Followers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad that people are liking my take on Arthur and the pagan mask! I just cant believe that some things in RDR 2 don't have much going on other than Arthur seeing it and sketching it or taking it.
> 
> Pairing: None
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Red Dead Redemption 2 belongs to Rockstar Games.

"Who's there?"

Arthur huffed and willed the whispers in his mind to calm down at the sound of John Marston's voice, making the shadows nip at his heels in retaliation but otherwise following Arthur's commands. "It's me! Ya dumbass!" he hollered as he rode into camp with the pagan mask attached firmly to the side of his horse's saddle. The empty hole sockets seemed to bore right into John's eyes as Arthur passed by the younger outlaw, though Arthur paid no mind to the worried look on John's face. Instead he had focused on hitching Magnolia and heading over to his tent to put the mask up on a nail, to hang next to some of his prized possessions.

The mask was eerily beautiful as the day began to turn to night and the blinding rays of the sun finally seemed to die out, letting Arthur feel peaceful in the shadows. He shrugged off his rifles and put his sidearms down onto the table next to his cot. The Whispers silent as they seemed to reach out through the shadows and get a feel for the gang that Arthur was a part of.

_Most ignoble creatures that you seemed to attach yourself to my dear, we do not see the need in keeping lazy mortals around; their only use if for nourishment._

Arthur frowned, Well maybe Uncle or Bill or Swanson weren't the most hardworking but they were still family.

_No, we are your family. We are all that you need._

The Whispers caressed his mind happily, _They_ _are your followers, your acolytes; they are the ones that are supposed to serve you and pray to you. Understand that we are not going to go against your wishes and not eat them until they are deemed disloyal to you._

Arthur shook his head and let the Whispers quieten once more, he was family to the gang. They didn't need to kneel to him, to pray to him, but everyone else? They were free game, everyone else needed to know that Arthur wasn't someone to be fucked with. But some quiet part of Arthur's mind told him that maybe this was wrong, they were supposed to be like Robin Hoods. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they were supposed to be benevolent not malevolent.

He snorted in derision and the shadows at his feet curled around his legs in hazy tendrils, and that part of his brain was silenced. Screaming in agony and about how this wasn't right! The shadows stilled and the Whispers asked to go see the so called person in charge; Dutch van der Linde would like to know what came of their meal. When he exited his tent, Arthur smiled gently at the sight of little Jack smacking a stick against a crate.

_What a tasty little morsel, not enough to be filling but sweet enough to count as desert._

No, Jack was off limit, he was just a child and Arthur would not let him get hurt.

_Ahhh, you care for this boy and his parents, we will leave them alone. They will be the first of your followers._

Suddenly, the loud snap of a branch under his feet snapped Arthur awake and he wondered why he wasn't being silent. But Jack looked up and the little boy gave him a huge smile, "Hi Uncle Arthur! What ya doin'?" The child was quick to scramble to his feet and run up to Arthur like an eager little puppy, finding his place in Arthur's shadows like he always belonged their. An action which made the Whispers pleased and the shadows from Arthur's surge outwards to carefully stroke the plump flesh of Jack Marston's cheek.

The young boy giggled, "That tickles Uncle Arthur! Stop!"

The outlaw turned deity smiled softly as he scratched at his beard, "Sorry Jackie, what was you saying?" The shadows retreated a bit but still lingered around Jack in a smoky haze.

"I was askin' what you were doin'!"

"Awww, not much Jack, just came back from trying to get Micah from jail, but it uhh - it didn't end to well," he said as a small red glint appeared in his eye.

Jack stared up at him for a second before the same glint appeared in his eyes for a second before fading, "Well that's okay! I never really liked him, he was really mean." And the young boy gave Arthur's leg a quick hug before darting off to find his mother, and Arthur smiled as he began his walk across camp to Dutch's tent. Some of the other members of the gang like Tilly and Pearson had come up to chatter a bit before the Whispers practically demanded to see where the power in the camp lay.

And they were clawing at the surface of his mind in anger as they spotted Dutch Van der Linde hard at work, reading a damned book in his tent.

Arthur hissed in agony as the sharp jaws of the Whispers tried to tear through his mind and brain, and at his pain the Whispers receded into his shadows. They murmured apologies to Arthur and licked the wounds of his mind, pushing the parts of Arthur that were crying in pain into a quiet submission. The Whispers didn't see what power could lie within such a useless, lazy human and they bayed for blood and gore. But Arthur shook his head and thought to the Whispers, about how Dutch had given him purpose and how if not for him then Arthur would have died in his teenage years.

The Whispers merely licked at his feet and ankles from his shadows and settled into a restless ease, allowing Arthur to approach Dutch without interfering for now. Though he could tell that small tendril had snaked out from him to wrap lightly around Dutch's ankle to feel for a pulse, or rather to wait for his pulse to speed up with a lie.

"Dutch!" Arthur called out as he waved a hand in front of the gang leader to get his attention, "Dutch! I'm back!"

The black haired man looked up with a frosty glare, "How nice of you to finally join us Arthur. It's been a while son."

Arthur tensed, recognizing that tone of voice and would have prepared himself for a talking to if the Whispers didn't comfort him with tranquil caresses. With the cold love from the Whispers, Arthur locked that part of his head that feared Dutch's disappointment and instead returned the look. For a moment it seemed that Dutch was surprised to see Arthur taking a stand against him, before the cold glare he had ignited into a fiery rage.

"Yeah, been away too long try'na find Micah and lookin' into leads for us, shootin' up half a town so Micah can get his damn guns, then watchin' Micah get shot for his troubles! So yeah, I'm glad to be back home Dutch, would you rather me dead like that damn fool!?" Arthur damned near roared with the strength of the Whispers behind his voice. A wicked part of Arthur smirked in pleasure seeing fear in Dutch's eyes; oh, the other million voices of the Whispers didn't even join him this time and it seemed that mere mortals still nearly piss themselves when coming into contact with even a fraction of the power Arthur now held in his hands.

That fear lasted for a second before it died down to a grudging acceptance, "I heard from Lenny about the article they wrote about what happened in Strawberry, it's a shame what happened to Micah. I can't help but to feel that we keep losing parts of out family and there is nothing I can do to stop it."

Arthur's eyes gleamed a brilliant ruby red as he stared at Dutch, and it took a mere second before that red gleam appeared in Dutch's eyes as well, "I know Dutch, it's been hard on all of us, but trust me when I say I will find a way to get us all to the West. Exactly like ya said, all we gots is each other, so please. _Don't worry about a thing Dutch, I'll take care of us. All I need is for you to trust me._ "

His voice took on the weight of millions of tones and voices, an age old accent twisting his own Southern accent to sound like a sweet melody dripping like venom from a snake's fang. Dutch swayed under the wave of his persuasion, and leaned heavily against some crates near his cot.

"Of course I trust you son."

Both men blinked and the red was gone from their eyes as if there was never anything there to begin with. The shadows creeped around Dutch's ankle and dug in with a quiet rumble, blood dripped from the wound and a jagged sigil that resembled the symbol drawn in his clearing was left behind. " _I'm glad to see that we are on the same page then Dutch Van der Linde, we can't wait to see what will be our next move. Of course you will consult us with your plans before anything happens, or else._ "

Dutch couldn't even cry out with pain as the brand was dug into his skin, but he looked up at Arthur as the shadows coalesced around his form like fluttering black curtain, "Or else what Arthur?"

Arthur smiled with too many teeth, " _Or else you get to join Micah._ "

He left with footsteps that never made a sound and Dutch noticed how he stuck to the edges of camp near the trees, or how he seemed to have more shadows than just his own. Oh, Dutch understood in the days later that what he talked to wasn't just Arthur, no it had Arthur's voice but it wasn't him. If he even thought about talking against Arthur or tried to even plan a heist or a move without Arthur's input then the brand on his ankle would burn and bleed shadows.

It was better to keep a semblance of power instead of losing it all together.

Though in the mean time Arthur seemed to flow throughout the camp, his shadows digging into the skins of his new followers and his mind was crying out about how this wasn't the freedom that he had believed in. Though the tainted part of his mind gleefully rejoiced that his followers would know who they belonged to, but the kinder part of him knew that the Whispers could tell him where his acolytes where at all time or if they were in danger. Then the Whispers swallowed up that last part of his pesky mind that rejected them and set out once more to greet the Gang turned acolytes.

When he reached little Jack Marston once more at dinner, he held the young boy in his lap and let the shadows crawl around him. Arthur and the Whispers agreed that he was too young to brand like the others, so Arthur picked him up and brought him over to his tent to show him the mask.

"Ya see that mask Jack, that there mask is what gives me power, but to give me strength all ya need to do is pray to us boy. Call out to us before you sleep at night and the Shadows will keep ya and yer Mama safe," Arthur smiled down at the four year old as he balanced him to stand on his bed and get a closer look at the mask.

Jack bounced on the bed lightly as his fingers ran over the smooth bone and Arthur found those phantom touches on his own flesh and blood face.

"Where'd ya find it Uncle Arthur?" Jack asked as he picked it up from the side of the wagon where it was pinned up.

The Whispers surged forward and their voice mixed in with Arthur's, " _Arthur Morgan never found us child, we found him lost in the light and brought him home to the cooling shadows. We are finally coming home after generations of being lost._ "

The little boy scrunched up his nose, "Wasn't it lonely then being away from home for that long?"

Both Arthur and the Whispers paused, " _Child, we are older than time, we don't know what it is like to be lonely, we revel in torment and bath in the blood of our sacrifice. We have only ever had followers, we have no need of friends nor family since we are not human._ "

"Well that's dumb! Mama says everyone needs a family and friends! I'll be your friend!" Jack giggled as the Shadows lifted him up and away from the mask for Arthur to pick from the air and cuddle close. Before they could answer Jack, they could hear the calling of Jack's parents.

Arthur let the Shadows curl again into his own form as he turned to some of the only people to not be turned in followers; of the Van der Linde Gang only Swanson, Karen, Bill, Abigail, John, and Strauss were not branded with his mark. Because some were not worthy of being in his presence, or they were not in camp at the moment. But in the case of Abigail Roberts and John Marston, it was because they were simply too observant to be marked so discreetly. As well as the fact that Arthur thought highly of them, so the pagan deity decided to give them the choice of joining them.

The Whispers curled around Arthur's mind even further, _Well its not as if they can refuse us, for their child will grow to be one of our most devout._

The cowboy turned and hitched Jack further up his torso to get a good hold on him as both Abigail and John came up together. "Jack! There you are boy! Leave your Uncle Arthur alone, he's just got back from his travels and you got to go to bed young man," Abigail scolded as she came up to take Jack from Arthur's hold, "I'm sorry Arthur, you must be tired after that mess in Strawberry."

Abigail smiled at him as he relinquished Jack tenderly, but he shook his head, "Nah, the boy's fine Abigail, but when you and John have got time I've got a lead in Valentine that I thought I could follow up with y'all."

While John had been quiet the entire time he spoke up finally, "You know Abigail ain't do that kinda stuff no more, and who would watch after the boy?"

"I meant more of a lead of a piece of land in the area, I'm more intimidating than most of us. But, you- you and Abby look like a young couple waiting to start their lives, banks are more willing to lend to two younguns like you than an old bastard like me."

_Or rather, they hated the thought of having to venture out and converse with other mortals as if they were in any way equal to them. But John and Abigail, they were more than mere acolytes; they were worthy of being disciples._

Abigail and John looked at each other in confusion, "Whaddya mean Arthur? We ain't anywhere near close to getting land after what happened in Blackwater!"

A red tint in his eyes caught on the roaring campfire that the rest of his followers were sitting at.

" _Don't worry y'all, leave it to me, after all I got a plan._ "

Oh yes, they did have a plan, and when they got the land that Arthur wanted then he could plan for a temple to be erected for him. After all, they deserved it, and in the mean time while they were in Valentine he could convert his disciples with their own marks.

But he would worry about that when the time comes, so Arthur bid the Marstons goodnight and climbed into bed. The Shadows reached out and closed the tent off from the outside world and from there they covered Arthur in a tangle of black tendrils and wisps of shadow.

Arthur fell into the void and the Whispers and Shadows caught him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay as I write this I might have lead myself into expanding this slightly soooo lets see how it goes.
> 
> Ragehappy Mavin Fan  
> A.K.A. Rhohel_of_the_Shire

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be a three chapter story about Arthur being possessed by the pagan ritual mask. I was disappointed that it did nothing really except look cool.
> 
> Ragehappy Mavin Fan  
> A.K.A. Rhohel_of_the_Shire


End file.
